A Rage in the Heavens (The Paladin Trilogy Book 1) (30 page)

“What happened to him?” asked Darius.

“He made a hole in the valley floor,” Adella replied, glancing up at him for a moment.

“He fell?” Darius asked, glancing inadvertently at that dreadful drop beside them.

“Yath nal Kregas mar. Reve Al Faruth!”
she said, finishing the last of the melons.

“A man like Bollas doesn’t just fall,” she continued grimly, as she led Darius back down the road, away from the fruit. “There are defenses here of which we know nothing.”

“The eyes in the clouds!” he said, inspired, remembering the bandit’s words.

Adella shot him another, approving glance. “Clever. Yes, the eyes in the clouds. But Malcolm does not spend his days looking down at a bare cliff. Those eyes are mindless and see only the unusual.”

Darius nodded, understanding. A defense that guarded itself was often easy to fool. He studied the sheer mountain faces, the single strand of the High Bridge far above, and he began to get a sense of Llan Praetor. The road, the bridge, all the approaches to the citadel were an elaborate trap, designed to lure the unwary to follow a familiar path, while the real route to Llan Praetor was carefully hidden, probably beyond the ability of any mortal to find. Except, perhaps, this Malcolm.

Adella took shelter in a narrow crevice of the mountain wall almost out of sight of the pile of Yonga Fruit, and Darius followed her lead.

He looked from Adella back to the pile of fruit just visible up the road and frowned. “But what good is all that to us?”

“It’s our ticket of passage. The eyes might spot a man swinging across on a rope, but they’ll be blind to birds.”

“Birds? What birds?”

“There!” she answered, pointing up into the sky.

Darius looked upwards, and he saw three large hawks or eagles circling above them, riding on the mountain airs. They were a beautiful sight, magnificent creatures soaring gracefully on the winds, delighting in their ability to fly, and as always, Darius wondered what it would be like to have wings and climb into the heavens. As he watched, one, two, and then all three of the birds began to descend in tight spirals, zeroing in on something they had spotted far below, and Adella put a hand against his chest to push him a little further under cover.

Down, down, down they came, plunging at an alarming speed, and as they came closer, Darius began to realize just how huge the birds were, giants of their species with wing spans a dozen yards across and bodies the size of a large horse. To his surprise, all three of the birds were coming right towards them, and only at the last moment did he realize they were making for the pile of green Yonga Fruit. The first landed directly beside the pile, and it cast only a single glance around before picking one of the melons from the pile and swallowing it whole. A moment later and the second and third birds landed as well, greedily pecking at the pile, the three of them pushing each other for better access to the fruit.

On the ground, the birds appeared less beautiful than they had in the air, with sharp beaks, long skinny necks, and almost reptilian eyes that were quite different from any avian features Darius had seen before, and they shrieked at each other as they gobbled down fruit, a horrible screech that made the hairs stand on the back of his neck.

“What are they?” he whispered.

“Praetor hawks,” Adella whispered back, her voice tight with excitement. “They love Yonga Fruit only a little more than horse flesh. Look at them! They rule the skies of Llan Praetor, though they are only seen at dawn and at dusk. Three! I’m glad now I dragged along as much fruit as I did.”

Darius looked back at the birds as they made short work of the Yonga Fruit, each barely pausing to swallow one whole before reaching for another. Then as he watched, he was startled to see first one, then a second, and finally the third come to a sudden stop as if frozen in place, the last of the Yonga Fruit lying unnoticed on the ground.

“Got ‘em!” Adella shouted, the sound a sharp contrast to her previous whispers. “Come on!”

Without waiting for a response, she rushed back towards the three silent birds, Darius following a little more cautiously behind. She ran to where the horse saddles lay, and she picked one up and threw it over the neck of the first of the Praetor hawks.

“Hurry!” she called. “We haven’t much time. The spell will last only a few minutes.”

“You can’t be serious,” Darius said, coming forward slowly. “You can’t mean to ride these monsters.”

“I do and I will,” she answered. “Now saddle that second one! I’ll explain, but we can’t delay.”

Suppressing his doubts, Darius threw the saddle over the second bird’s shoulders, and watching Adella’s technique, he began to buckle the saddle down.

“Not too tightly with the straps,” she warned. “We won’t be on them for long, and it may take weeks to free themselves from this gear once we’re done.”

“Done with what?”

“When the holding spell wears off, they’ll be shaken, and they’ll take to the heavens for safety. A straight line to Llan Praetor. We won’t have much need to guide them left or right, but we’ll need the reins to force their heads down and make them land. Then we jump off, and they go free.”

“Jump?” repeated Darius in some alarm. Trying to dismount from a wild bird on top of a mountain seemed much more difficult than Adella was suggesting.

“Hitch the stirrups higher,” she said as she completed her own adjustments. “You’ll need to swing your legs over quickly when the time comes.”

Darius complied, but even as he did so, the bird began to stir to life again. Rather than a slow movement, the bird jerked slightly once, then twice, warning him he had barely seconds to mount. Adella was already in the saddle, her own bird rapidly freeing itself from the hold, and he hurried to put foot in the stirrup and swing himself up.

“Show your steel, Glory Man,” she said with a wide grin. “Come and ride the winds of chance!”

With that, she dug heels into the hawk’s sides, and the alarmed bird spread its huge winds and took to the air. To Darius’ horror, however, rather than rising to the peaks, the bird and rider plummeted towards the valley floor!

He leaned out of the saddle despite his own bird’s stirrings, trying to see over the brink. Down they plunged, bodies rigid, the hawk’s great wings outstretched, reaching for the wind, and Darius could only watch with gaping mouth, certain he was witnessing a suicide. Then, in an instant, the hawk seemed to level out, its wings and body parallel to the ground, and a moment later, bird and rider were rushing upwards again with incredible speed as if they were an arrow shot from some monstrous bow.

She was even with him for just an instant, and he saw the exultation on her face and the joyous laughter which the sound of the winds masked, a young bird on her first flight, glorying in her true element. Upward she went, riding the draft, heading for the strand of bridge far above, and she arched her body like a jockey, her steed tilting its wings slightly to zoom towards the far cliff.

He had to look away as his own hawk came back fully to life, staggering slightly at the edge of the cliff.

A thief’s trick
, snarled Sarinian suddenly from its back scabbard.
Some black spell from that accursed sword to lure you to your death. Dismount! You know well the woman is plotting some treachery. Turn away!

“Perhaps,” Darius answered softly, as he felt the fear welling in the hawk, the panicky need to take flight. “But what more glorious way to die?”

A moment later, the hawk launched itself from the cliff, and taken unawares by the unexpected weight on its back, it too plunged towards the ground.

Down he fell, down, plunging with a terrifying speed, his heart thundering with fear, his mind frozen and helpless, desperately holding the reins and clutching the bird with his legs, his throat too choked to breath or scream. A hundred feet, two hundred, three hundred, five, down past the point where Adella had risen, the ground rushing up to meet them, the jagged rocks reaching as he fell into the open mouth of death. His eyes closed, his teeth grinding against each other, a last, hopeless prayer to Mirna fleeting across his lips.

And suddenly, Mirna took mercy and reached down a mighty hand to lift him from his grave.

Up, up, up they soared, climbing through the air as only the eagles could, the updraft as thrilling as the fall had been terrifying. The bird rushed upwards past the rim where the remains of the Yonga Fruit lay, and Darius felt certain he could fly forever, feeling like a cripple who suddenly finds that he can run. Shooting upwards, the distant bridge now but a blink away, he pulled the reins hard, forcing the creature’s head to the right, and just as Adella had promised, the hawk banked accordingly, bringing him to the brink of Llan Praetor.

He was still rising, and he saw directly above him that Adella had already achieved the brink and was driving the head of her hawk down, forcing it to the ground. A moment later, and she had slipped nimbly from the saddle and landed perfectly on her feet, the newly released creature screaming as it soared towards the darkening heavens.

Now it was his time. The creature was at the brink, still seeking the heights, its wings climbing through the air at a frantic pace, seeking to escape the threatening ground. Darius dragged the reins downward as hard as he could, pulling the hawk’s head downward, and reluctantly, the creature began to descend, nearing the edge of the cliff. But Darius had not Adella’s dexterity, and as he tried to slip from the saddle, he let up on the downward pressure on the reins. The hawk reared its head, driving upwards again, and Darius faltered once, grabbed hopelessly at the saddle, and then with a strangled cry, he fell.

He struck the edge of the cliff , his fingers barely brushing against the rock, holding only air, and then he began the plunge to valley floor far below.

Adella instantly leaped from the cliff, her own gear discarded, coming to share his death. With one hand, she caught one of the small gnarled trees clinging to the face of the cliff, and with the other, she grabbed for Darius, her fingers scratching down his neck to catch on his armored breastplate. The tree shuttered beneath their combined weight, shaking loose a small fall of dirt, but its deep roots held.

Darius knew he had only moments to live. Adella could barely hold herself, and there was no chance she could pull him up. He felt the woman’s grip slipping, and he looked up to see a hopeless fear in her eyes. He grabbed behind and pulled Sarinian free of its scabbard even as his weight broke Adella’s hold. He thrust the sword forward with all his might, and the gleaming blade buried itself deep in the rock of the cliff. Darius held with one hand, grabbed with the second, and pressed himself as close to the cliff as he could.

Adella quickly scrambled back to the crest, finding tiny hand holds with amazing ease, and moments later, a rope was tossed over the edge for him. Darius grabbed it, looped it several times around his one arm, then pulled Sarinian free from the cliff and placed it back in its scabbard. Moments later, he had pulled himself up to the crest of the cliff and lay at last on solid ground.

Adella dropped down beside him.

“It seems this still isn’t your time to die, Paladin,” she breathed.

“It would seem not,” he agreed, still gasping for breath.

He looked over to where the High Bridge swayed and sighed in the updrafts, a narrow structure of frayed rope and rotting wood, spanning the frightening gap between the heights. The sight of that weather-battered bridge rocking in the wind helped him understand Adella’s willingness to trust herself to the hawks and the mountain airs.

He sat up and looked back over the cliff to the impossible distances they had come. He shook his head, the memory of the incredible sense of freedom in that short flight quite overwhelming the near-tragedy at the end. He shook his head and murmured softly, “Now I know why the angels always smile.”

He glanced over at her, as she, too, relived the last few minutes, and his eyes softened. Whatever treachery she might be planning, money alone could not account for what he had seen in her eyes at that instant when he had slipped from her grasp.

“Thank you,” he said, offering her a pale smile. “You risked your life to buy me only a chance to survive.”

She shrugged the words off.

“You’ve shown real grit, my friend, more than I’ve ever seen before,” she said. Then a wry smile came to her face. “Besides, Bloodseeker would have been enraged if I had let the rocks have you.”

“No doubt,” he replied, smiling in turn. “I think that quite settles our score.”

“Settles it?” she snorted. “You may think nothing of facing two dozen hungry bandits, but I count it as two lives to one. You’re in my debt, Lord Darius.”

He shrugged lightly. “It’s not yet time to tally that account.”

“Perhaps not,” she agreed, secret thoughts hiding behind her eyes. She jumped back to her feet.

“Come, we’ve no time for idleness,” she said to him. “The light is fleeing, and we’ve still a ways to climb before we reach the gates on Llan Praetor.”

Darius nodded and got slowly up to his feet.

CHAPTER 19

Llan Praetor

Shannon and Jhan crouched down in the darkness of the wooded thicket beside Raulea’s considerable bulk and stared out at the moon-lit pond which the woman assured them was a favorite haunt of the pegasus. The dark water was luminous with starlight and moonlight, giving a reflected silvery beauty to the surrounding woods. It must look particularly lovely from the air, Shannon realized.

From somewhere off to the left came the sweet sound of pan-pipes fluting gently in the night, the sound in perfect harmony with the sylvan surroundings. Raulea had brought two of her assistants with her to play the pipes, and no sooner had one fallen silent than another set from across the lake could be heard taking up the call. With the crescent moon rising on one side of them and the lights of the Fey still visible on the other, it was a setting to ease even the most troubled heart.

“Will this actually bring a pegasus?” Jhan asked dubiously.

Raulea smiled in the darkness. “Of that, you may be certain. I’ve heard of many methods of calling a pegasus, but none are quite as good as this. They dearly love the silver lake in the moonlight, so one or more are bound to visit on a night like this. And while they are winged, they are still tied to the earth, and the pan-pipes are the surest way of pulling them down out of the sky.” She paused. “Of course, dealing with them on the ground can be another matter.”

“But surely all the things we bought today will win them over,” Shannon said, though her tone questioned her own words. “We must…”

“Hush!” hissed Raulea suddenly, pointing up at the sky. “Behold!”

Shannon looked and was startled to see a great white form soaring down out of the night sky, gleaming in the darkness as if lit by some internal power. Closer it came, and they could see it was indeed a winged horse, its hooves beating the air as if running upon some invisible road, its great wings spread but hardly moving. Down, down he swooped, circling the small lake, and all three of them cringed down in the thicket, hoping to avoid his sight.

The great creature flew low over the lake, its movements seeming in rhythm with the pan-pipes, and after circling one last time, it finally alighted directly beside the water, hardly a score of yards from where they lay hidden. He moved his head cautiously first to one side and then the other, checking his surroundings, but it was as if he found the sound of the pan-pipes reassuring. Apparently satisfied, he bent his head and began to drink.

“You’ve the Demon’s own luck!” Raulea breathed softly. “That’s none other than Gil-Gal-Som himself, the greatest of his kind. He’ll bear you to the ends of the earth in a single night; provided you meet his price.”

She got heavily to her feet and gathered her cloak around her, but she glanced back at them before leaving the cover of the thicket. “Remember. Stay here until I signal, and hold your tongues. One wrong word will launch him back into the heavens.”

With that, she walked slowly and calmly out into the open glen, the hood around her head, her arms wrapped protectively around her. There was the faintest sound of a sob or a sniff, as if the woman were crying. She was careful not to walk directly towards the creature but just off to one side, as if stumbling across it by accident as she wandered through the woods.

The pegasus lifted his head swiftly and struck the earth hard with his hooves in obvious warning. Raulea reacted as if startled, and slowly, she lowered her hood, the starlight glinting off a hint of tears on her cheeks.

“Praise the gods,” she said softly. “Could this be the answer to my prayers?”

The pegasus made no response, merely stood watching and waiting. Raulea seemed to take this as a positive sign.

“I am in distress,” she said, holding out her hands beseechingly, “and I have come seeking counsel here among the beauty of the trees. Oh, Father of the Pegasus, hear my plea. Endless leagues lie between this place and Llan Praetor in the eastern mountains. Only wings such as yours can make that journey in a single night.”

Gil-Gal-Som cocked his head slightly as if trying to see this strange human better.

“Llan Praetor is dangerous air,” a voice spoke, seeming to come from all around them. “The bones of many creatures lie scattered about its rocks. I have no wish to carry you there.”

“It is not I who need to travel,” Raulea answered.

She put her hands at her side, palms level with the ground, the pre-arranged sign. Immediately both Shannon and Jhan came slowly forward, moving carefully with their heads covered as they had been told. The pegasus struck the ground with his front hooves again and backed away a pace, though his wings remained folded on his back.

“The last human that I bore upon my back abused me cruelly at the end of the journey,” the creature said, though there was no sign of his lips moving. The words seemed to form in their minds without first entering their ears. “Now you wish that I should bear not one but two of your kind.”

“That is true,” Raulea answered. “But we are not all cruel. Or niggardly.”

She produced a leather sack and drew from it an endless silver chain of fine and intricate links, the metal glinting in the starlight. No reaction came from the pegasus except a long pause. Finally he said, “A fine tether for a silver neck. But I have no wish to find myself in chains.”

Raulea showed no surprise at this response, simply dangled the chain for a moment longer, letting it sparkle in the moonlight, then dropping it to the ground at the feet of the pegasus.

“How foolish of me,” she said, “to confuse an adornment with a tether. Perhaps I can find some trinket to make amends.”

She reached again into the sack, and this time, she pulled out a strange necklace of worked silver and tiny mirrors. When they had found it at one of the trading booths, Raulea had been ecstatic, insisting on buying it, though both Shannon and Jhan had been vaguely appalled by its cheap, gaudy appearance. Now, however, watching closely from the shelter of the thicket, Shannon felt she saw a real reaction from the pegasus, a shiver of interest, quickly repressed.

“A poor enough item it is,” Gil-Gal-Som said, his voice giving no hint of inflection. “Enough to apologize for the insult of the chain, perhaps. But nothing more.”

Shannon glanced at Jhan and saw he shared her concern. The creature’s words showed an interest, a willingness to bargain, but it also suggested a very high price. And they knew Raulea had only one more offering to dangle before him.

“Then behold a thing of real beauty,” she said, putting both her hands within the sack and letting it fall to the ground. Remaining in her palms were a pair of large silver horse brushes, their straps loped around her hands, and as the pegasus stared, she brushed them lightly together. Tiny sparks of power danced along the bristles, proving that the brushes were not only beautiful but magical as well.

A strange sound like an eagle’s cry only much deeper came from the throat of the pegasus at the sight, and Shannon smiled, knowing the creature was excited by this offering at least.

“A worthy gift,” the pegasus admitted, “though it takes the form of the combs men use to soothe their horses. But I will accept all three and bear one person where they will, even if it be to the foot of Llan Praetor itself.”

“But there are two who require passage,” Raulea said quickly. “Surely the great strength of Gil-Gal-Som can make light of two children. Both of them combined are still less than my weight.”

“For the three offerings, I shall bear one person,” the pegasus repeated, and there was a finality in his tone that convinced them all of his sincerity.

There was a moment of silence in the glen, and then Jhan leaned forward and said softly, “I’ll go, Shannon. You go back with Father Joshua and make your way to Duke’s Hall, and I’ll meet you there with your Father.”

A reasonable suggestion solving all the problems, but Shannon found herself balking. Her vision of her new purpose was still very dim, hardly more than a stirring in her heart and her mind, but she felt somehow certain that it led to Llan Praetor; and not to Duke’s Hall.

Without thinking, she came forward, passing a startled Raulea to stand directly before the pegasus. Gil-Gal-Som reared at her approach, his wings beating the air, threatening to take flight, but when she dropped the hood from her head and knelt meekly before him, he calmed again.

“Fair creature, I beg you humbly to give us aid,” she entreated him, her hands outstretched. “Our lives and the lives of many of our kind are in danger, and only the speed of your great wings can bring us all to safety. A being that has lived as long as you must have great depths of compassion within his heart. I feel strangely sure that if you grant this boon, there will be less slaughter and wailing in the lands beneath your wings, and the world can only be the sweeter as a result.”

For a long moment, the great silvery being studied her silently, its dark eyes locked on her, the words still seeming to echo in the glen. And then slowly, he came forward, towering above her, so close that she could feel the power that burned within him, and she met his stare steadily without flinching. He lowered his head and gently brushed against her golden hair.

“Daughter of Man, I hear your words,” Gil-Gal-Som said softly. “And I feel the pain and the power which gives them voice. Fate walks within your skin and hope within your heart. Both of you I shall bear this night, wherever you will, even if it be to the Caves of the Black Dragons.”

Even as he spoke, the silver chain, the mirrored necklace, and the magical brushes vanished each in turn, as if they were being absorbed into the very air. Gil-Gal-Som went to stand beside a high rock and patiently bid them mount.

“I wouldn’t have credited it, if I hadn’t seen with my own eyes,” Raulea said softly as they climbed the rock and cautiously mounted the great back. “Good speed to you, Fair One, wherever fate leads you. For never before has any maid won the heart of the Father of the Pegasus!”

Shannon had no time to spare for such thoughts, gingerly putting her hands on the base of the huge wings, and she was relieved when Gil-Gal-Som made no protest. Jhan locked his arms around her waist, and both of them gripped the great body with their legs. In an instant, the white wings made one majestic beat of the air, and though they felt nothing, they saw the ground falling away beneath them.

The pegasus might have the outward form of a horse, but they both realized in these first moments of flight that the two creatures were completely different. Gil-Gal-Som bore them with an ease that no horse could possibly match, the air a far gentler medium than the pounding of hooves on hard earth, and within minutes, they found their knees easing, lessening their grip as they instinctively trusted this wise and experienced master.

Upward they rose, up to where the stars and the clouds awaited them, and the air they breathed seemed fresher than any they had ever tasted before. Shannon gathered her courage and managed to look down, and she was stunned by how high they had come in only moments. Raulea was lost in the darkness, the trees no more than a child’s toys, and only the shimmering waters of the lake told her where the old woman still stood.

Then she turned and look forward into the endless darkness where, somewhere ahead, she knew her father walked.

* * * * *

The moon was spying down through wind-swept clouds, and the great bulk of Llan Praetor loomed before them in the darkness. Darius came to a halt, staring up at the castle he had traveled so many leagues to find, a sense of awe overwhelming him as he only now grasped the scale of the fortress before him. Llan Praetor was the entire top of the mountain, its walls the actual sheer cliffs of the peak, and Darius realized it must have been hollowed from the solid stone by some incredible labor or power. But more, even here at the castle’s foot, they were above the surrounding summits, proving that the original mountain of Llan Praetor must have been gigantic, dwarfing its fellow peaks and turning them into no more than foothills to its majesty.

Stone pillars carved by the ceaseless winds stood as guard towers at each corner, the very pinnacle of the mountain was the castle’s central keep, and the ragged battlements were built for use by giants. Darius could almost picture the boulders and lightning bolts that would rain down on the heads of any invaders who survived the scaling of the mountain. Llan Praetor was not just invulnerable, it was unassailable.

In the center of that great black mass, a single tiny light was gleaming, the only sign that the rock was not entirely lifeless.

“Come,” said Adella. “The only door is over this way.”

She began to lead him off to the right, but he hesitated, asking, “Shouldn’t we wait until daylight?”

“Dawn is more than eight hours off,” she answered with a shrug. “If you can spare the time, I’ll be happy to take some sleep.”

Darius sighed, both of them knowing that he could not spare a single hour let alone eight. But he couldn’t suppress the thought that Adella had arranged their travel to arrive in the dead of night, the time of thieves, and whatever she was planning would work better beneath the blanket of darkness. He shook the thought off, realizing again that there was nothing he could do at this point, and turned in the direction she indicated.

Oddly, Adella dallied for just a moment to let him draw even with her, the two of them walking side by side. Up ahead, he could just make out a darker patch in the rock wall, a small rectangle hardly larger than any common door rather than the huge gate which the castle seemed to merit.

Have caution, Inglorion
, Sarinian said suddenly.
We approach a wall of power
.

And without saying a word, Adella reached out and gently put her hand on his arm, her touch so light that he barely noticed.

Understanding burst in upon him, all the puzzling pieces falling together in this one instant. She was counting on Sarinian’s power to carry them both through the wall of force! He kept walking, knowing his sudden insight was his only hope, yet not sure how to use it, for Adella’s cat-like quickness would follow any clumsy move he might make. Something of value, he told himself. Something of value to distract the woman for one critical instant. His thumb caressed the golden ring he wore on his left hand, and even as his mind rebelled at the thought, his heart warmed.